


untitled

by bellaaanovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Shotgunning, Smoking, Stanford Era, it says jessica and sam but it's only implied, this was a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaaanovak/pseuds/bellaaanovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean pays a visit to Sam, although he's a year and a half early and it's not about their missing father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about eight months after Sam left for Stanford. Jessica and Sam are two months into living in their apartment. The art is mine. :-) Also posted on Tumblr. (cryingaboutwincest.tumblr.com/tagged/myfics)

“So, what are you even doing here, Dean?” Sam said anxiously as he sat on the edge of his and Jessica’s bed as Dean paced the floor. They’ve only had the apartment a good two months, and there were still boxes lying around. Most of them carried Jessica’s things. Sam didn’t have much besides clothes and school stuff.

 

Dean continued to pace around the bedroom and threw his hands up. “I dunno, Sammy.” His voice broke a little. Sam held back a chuckle.

 

“Well, is Dad okay?” An affirmative nod from his brother. “Okay, so what else could it _possibly_ be?”

 

“Dunno! Maybe I just miss havin’ your whiny bitch ass around.” Ah, Dean’s doing that thing where he insults someone to cover up his real feelings – and to say the least, it was ridiculously obnoxious and childlike.

 

A whole eight months and barely even a phone call, and _now_ the guy decides he wants to get the band back together? No way. He has a life here – a girlfriend, school, friends. This is crazy.

 

“Dean, listen…” Sam started. He couldn’t take his eyes off the floor.

“No, Sam, it’s fine. I get it. You’ve got your whole future right there in front of you, don’tcha? And I’m just – me and _Dad_ are just some twisted memory you gotta let go of, is that it?” Sam shot upwards and stood up to Dean, accidentally cowering over him.

 

“Are you joking, Dean? I think about you… every goddamn day, and I get so fucking scared to call you because of what happened before I left. How could you miss me after what I did?” Sam attempted to keep his voice down, but what was the point, really?

 

“Sam. Come on. Calm _down_. It was just…”

“D-don’t.” Sam forced himself to look down again and sat gently back on the bed. His brother sat on the nearest chair, which he brought in – dragged in, really – from the kitchen. It was silent for ten minutes.

 

“Brought somethin’ for ya. Didn’t know if you still did it, but hell, you’re in college. Figured why not.” Sam looked up and Dean waved around a small baggie of weed. Sam laughed.

 

The blunt was sloppy and poorly rolled by the time Dean handed it to Sam. Maybe because Dean’s hands were visibly shaking. Or because blunts were just loose. Sam preferred joints for that reason.

 

He took a large hit and inhaled blissfully. Coughing a little, he twirled the blunt around between his fingers. Leaning back on the bed more he closed his eyes. “This thing is pretty sloppy, Dean. Even for you.”

 

His brother scoffed from the other side of the room. “Like you can do better, College-Boy.”

“Probably can.”

“Shut up.”

 

Sam sighed and took another mind clearing, peace inducing drag and held it in his lungs, standing up quickly and walking over to Dean. He looked at his eyes, in his dilated green eyes, and Dean swallowed, gently opened his mouth, and ever so softly grazed his lips across Sam’s as the younger exhaled the smoke into his mouth. He watched motionless as Dean breathed in the smoke before exhaling it back out without breaking eye contact.

 

It was beautifully fascinating every time; Sam will never forget the day Dean taught him, and how it _is not kissing, dude_.

 

It was a while before Sam took to mind the position they were still in – Sam leaning over Dean in a chair – so close, but so far from each other. It was torture.

 

“She doesn’t have to know.” Dean blurted out suddenly. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. _Know what?_ He said to himself, mostly because he was too afraid to say it out loud. “If ya wanna kiss me. I know you do, Sammy. I can see it; I’m not blind, for Christ’s sake.” The heat in Sam’s face rose, his stomach was flipping, and he was _still standing over Dean_. “It’s not like…” He cleared his throat. “It’s not like we’re d-dating or anythin’. I’m only your brother.”

 

And it hurt.

 

That’s the part that hurt the most, because Dean was only his brother, and always will be only his brother.

 

His brother who notices he wants to kiss him and will clearly let him. His brother who breathes in his smoke and allows their lips to graze every chance he gets.

 

Then again, nothing in their family was ever really… normal. Sam sighed. What the hell, right?

 

Taking his brother’s warm, scruffy face in his vibrating, calloused hands, he kissed him hard on the mouth, and it was more wonderful than any kiss he’s shared with Jess, or anyone, for that matter.

 

Dean kissed back, and Sam was beginning to think his brother didn’t mind the impulsive first _real_ kiss before he left. The kiss Sam thought Dean hated him for, because shot-gunning a cigarette is _not kissing_.

 

Dean smiled, and Sam smiled. They rested next to each other on the bed for the next two hours, finishing off blunts, taking each other’s smoke, kissing and simply talking as they stared at the blurry ceiling. It was dazing and phenomenal and electric, and Sam couldn’t ask for a better goodbye.

 

 


End file.
